


fluffy

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enjolras has a cat and he loves it very very much, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>inspired by this tumblr post:<br/>"I really want a fic where Grantaire walks in on Enjolras really embarrassingly baby-talking his pet cat (“who’s the cutest itty bitty kitty? who’s the cutest kitty? it’s you, you the cutest, yes you are, yes you are…" etc), and when Enjolras finally notices he’s not alone and turns a particularly unflattering crimson that’s the moment Grantaire realises he’s totally fucked"</p>
            </blockquote>





	fluffy

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [laurencombeferre](http://noblehector.co.vu/) for letting me write a little fic about their text post.  
> (I apologise for the unimaginative title)

Grantaire wasn’t particularly impressed by the incredibly loud noises his phone was making. He would have just ignored it, like he always did when his phone started ringing at fuck o’clock in the morning, but the thump that suspiciously sounded like Jehan throwing a shoe at the wall between their rooms made him rethink his choices.

He pried his eyes open, staring at the name of the delinquent who dared to call him at this ungodly hour. Enjolras. Who else.

“This better be good,” Grantaire grumbled as way of greeting.

“You promised to bring over the designs for the flyers by Friday. Which was yesterday.”

“Exactly, which means today is Saturday. What did I tell you about waking me up before noon on a fucking Saturday? I fucking hate you.”

“Can you bring over the designs?” Leave it to Enjolras to be completely unfazed by his yelling and swearing. “I’d really like to take a look at them.”

Grantaire groaned. “Now?”

“You could have just brought them over yesterday like you promised, then we wouldn’t have this problem.”

He listened to Enjolras prattle on about how irresponsible Grantaire was until he eventually agreed to meet him.

Grantaire spent a few minutes mumbling curses into his pillow, pretending that he hated Enjolras for this, pretending because, honestly, he could never _really_ hate him. He just found himself in a constant state of eye-rolling and trying not to make it too obvious that he wanted to fuck Enjolras’ brains out.

He let out a long-suffering sigh, because now he had to get out of bed, get dressed, and drag his ass over to Enjolras’ flat instead of just meeting him at the Musain, which was just around the corner and where he would have got some decent coffee, and pretend that he was angry about it and not happy to see Enjolras’ annoyingly beautiful face.

He stomped up the stairs to Enjolras’ flat on the second floor as noisily as he could and let himself in, because Enjolras was and had always been too trustworthy for his own good and tended to leave his door unlocked.

Grantaire found Enjolras in the middle of his living room, sitting on the big fuzzy carpet, which was much loved by all of their friends, facing away from the door, and consequently completely unaware of Grantaire’s presence.

He was playing with Fluffy, the kitten he’d picked up at some shelter about a year ago and therefore wasn’t really a kitten anymore. That obviously didn’t stop Enjolras from treating it like one.

Just for the record, Grantaire and Fluffy weren’t really on speaking terms, mainly because Fluffy had made an attempt to claw Grantaire’s eyes out on more than one occasion and when he peacefully slept in everyone else’s lap, Fluffy would hiss at Grantaire when he even as much as looked at him. So, as far as Grantaire was concerned, Fluffy wasn’t an adorable little kitten, but a terrifying monster.

And anyway, who even named their cat Fluffy. He wouldn’t have taken Enjolras for someone so unimaginative and obviously Grantaire had had to mention exactly that. “I honestly expected you to name it Robespierre or something, you know something really pretentious,” he’d said. “Liberty, even. But Fluffy?”

“Well, he’s not your cat,” Enjolras had muttered, glaring daggers at him as he’d scooped Fluffy into his arms and had dropped a kiss onto his tiny, furry head. Grantaire had definitely _not_ been jealous of a fucking cat. “Anyway, he looks like a Fluffy.”

Grantaire had only rolled his eyes at that and had pointedly ignored all of his friends cooing at the little furball in Enjolras’ hand.

Now, Enjolras hadn’t cooed, he’d only smiled fondly and scratched Fluffy behind the ears. But right now Enjolras was sat on the floor, still wearing his pyjamas, hair a messy golden cloud around his head, waggling his finger at Fluffy and honest to God _cooing_.

“Who’s the cutest little kitty in the entire world,” Enjolras whispered, “Who is… you are, yes, you, you’re the cutest and fluffiest kitten of them all, yes you are, _yeees_.”

Grantaire stood frozen in place, gaping. He was having a stroke. He was still drunk. Hallucinating. This could not be real. Everything he’d thought he knew about Enjolras, cool and composed Enjolras, was a lie.

“You’re the most adorable little fluffball I’ve ever seen, yes, you are.” Enjolras was now gently stroking Fluffy’s undoubtedly soft fur – Grantaire wouldn’t know, he didn’t touch the vicious beast. “You are my favourite kitten, because you’re the fluffiest.”

Enjolras chuckled to himself, a sound Grantaire believed he’d never heard from Enjolras ever before and at which he just couldn’t hold in the laughter anymore. He did try really hard, though, and ended up making a noise that came out as some kind of undignified snort. In any case, it was loud enough to make Enjolras realise that he wasn’t alone anymore.

He stilled, straightened visibly, and turned around very, very slowly. “ _Grantaire_ ,” he said, making sure to convey his anger with each syllable, “how long _exactly_ have you been standing there?”

Grantaire didn’t dare move or make a sound, afraid that he’d start giggling uncontrollably, especially now that Enjolras’ face had turned a quite astounding shade of crimson.

Enjolras, apparently not satisfied with not getting an answer, got to his feet and marched up to Grantaire, staring down at him in a way that probably should have been intimidating, but was downright hilarious to Grantaire, because Enjolras’ face was still as red as the damn peacoat he always wore, and it just led to him bursting out laughing.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “How. Long.”

“Long enough,” Grantaire whispered, trying not to get distracted by how close Enjolras’ face was to his. Grantaire swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, but-”

“Don’t,” Enjolras said, “whatever you were going to say, just don’t.”

“Okay,” was all Grantaire managed, because Enjolras was still staring daggers at him. “I brought the designs for the flyers,” he added quickly and handed Enjolras the flash drive he'd brought.

“Great,” Enjolras said curtly. “And just so we're clear... you will not mention this. To anyone. Ever.”

“What exactly?” Grantaire asked innocently.

“You know what,” Enjolras snapped. “Swear you won’t tell anyone about this.”

Grantaire smirked. “I swear.”

“I’ll know it was you.”

“I am aware.”

Enjolras huffed angrily, then he pushed past Grantaire and walked into the kitchen. “Are you staying for breakfast?” he asked casually, as if Grantaire hadn’t just caught him being all cute and just completely unlike himself.

“Sure,” Grantaire said with a shrug, pretending he wasn’t hyperventilating internally. He’d have to commit this to memory with as much detail as possible. And he’d have to make sure to constantly remind Enjolras that he _knew_.

Five minutes later Grantaire was perched on Enjolras’ sofa, keeping a safe distance to Fluffy, who’d made himself comfortable on the sofa as well, a steaming mug of coffee in hand, listening to Enjolras whistling in the kitchen. He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to mention that to anyone either.

Grantaire grinned sheepishly. “I fucking love you,” he whispered to Fluffy, who looked as unimpressed as only a cat could.


End file.
